Infection//The Pretentious Title

But I don’t want to be a painting
A masterpiece
A statue smiling for your pleasure
Take me away from this static room
These paddened walls aren’t helpful

Give me a paintbrush and a chainsaw
I will cut off my limbs
Reattach w/ red paint
Hurling onto canvas onto pavement onto
woodblocks
I will peel off this smile
Stick it onto some mirror
Call it ART
Watch you twitch with discomfort
as you realize it still moves

I’m still moving through this mirror
Immediately mediated
An aura of movement
Lips curving touching pinching
Your perception of

Mirrors can’t move
Move out of the way:
Your eyes are blinding
Here, let me burn them,
Douse them in linseed oil
Clear them of static purity
Subject them to my dirty fingers
Cover them in charcoal
And pull them from their sockets
There.

Can’t you see
Beauty is dirty
Bulging with contamination
Imperfectly swimming through perception
You can’t contain me
I am not a masterpiece
I am a plague
Let me infect you.